


The Dying Embers of an Altar-Place

by Raindropsonwhiskers



Series: Darkness [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Admissions of Feelings, Childhood Friends, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Nonbinary Doctor (Doctor Who), Other, a brief respite from the Pain, and murder, even though it doesnt come up directly... its There, yearning in large quantities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29364555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raindropsonwhiskers/pseuds/Raindropsonwhiskers
Summary: A collection of prose additions to my TMA AU. Mostly fluffy, but...
Relationships: The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair, Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)
Series: Darkness [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154603
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	1. Dinner Not-Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set after chapter 2 of In The Dread Of This, Their Desolation  
> No TWs, just schmoop!

Theta texts Koschei as soon as she takes her lunch break, typing his number into her mobile with slightly uncertain fingers. There's a fear to it; a worry that if she messages him, she'll find herself met with only 'Sorry, you've got the wrong number'. But she tries anyway. Strangely, facing down certain death armed with only a shard of mirrored glass makes social concerns much less frightening.

Still, the message goes through about ten variations before she actually sends it. In the end, she settles on, "Hey Koschei! Where should I meet you?" and then spends the rest of her lunch compulsively checking her mobile every few seconds.

He sends her the address a few minutes after she sits back down on the floor of the basement to continue sorting statements, and she doesn't even think before checking it. When she looks up, she sees three sets of raised eyebrows.

"What?" she asks, defensive.

Graham laughs. "You were real quick to check that."

"It was important."

"Yeah, important enough you were smiling," Yaz says, teasing.

"We haven't seen each other in a while," Theta says. "I can't help it."

"How long's a while?" Ryan asks. He moves another file to the 'definitely fake' stack as he does.

There's a special kind of guilt that writhes in Theta's stomach when she thinks about the day she left the foster home. Even decades later, she remembers the heartbroken, betrayed look on Koschei's face and the bitter tears they'd both shed. She had known for a week that it was going to happen, and had kept it a secret in hopes that it would change. If there's one action Theta could undo, it would be that one. She would have told him, and then maybe that memory wouldn't hurt quite the same way it does.

"We were ten," she says softly.

Her friends are silent for a long moment after that, and she doesn't blame them. It's a long time - unreasonably so - to hold affection for someone that so readily rekindled. But Koschei was special.  _ Is _ special.

Eventually, they go back to making idle chatter as they sort through files, and Theta lets her mind wander to other things. It's the first time in far too long that's felt genuinely nice.

She shows up at Koschei's flat at 7:05, though not on purpose. Stopping by her flat to freshen up had taken longer than anticipated when Idris decided to make a run for the lift. Still, Theta's impressed that she's not later.

When she knocks, it's in a shudderingly familiar set of four beats that makes her dig her nails into her other hand. She hadn't even realized what she was doing until her fist was rapping at the door. Her stomach turns, memories of gleaming teeth and blood pushing at her mind.

And then the door opens, and she sees Koschei's face, and Theta tries to push those thoughts down to the back of her mind.

"Hey," she says.

"Hey," he smiles. "Only five minutes late."

"There was a thing with my cat," she apologizes.

Koschei laughs. "When'd you get a cat?"

"A couple months ago. Her name's Idris."

_ "Please _ tell me you have pictures," he says. "And, uh, come on in."

Theta follows him in, taking in the charming clutter of his flat. It's not really tidy, but there's a method to the warmth and madness. Mostly dark colors, but nothing unwelcoming; it's all comforting and soft.

"Cozy," she notes.

"You mean messy," Koschei corrects.

She smiles. "Well, you've always been a hoarder."

"You're one to talk. I remember your collection of rocks you used to hide under your mattress."

"They were  _ important _ rocks," Theta protests, on behalf of her younger self. "And besides, you never complained when it gave us an excuse to cuddle."

The look on Koschei's face is almost unbearably fond. "No, I didn't."

She falls silent for a moment at that, thinking back to countless nights spent curled into a bed barely big enough for one person. Two lonely, frightened kids, chasing off each other's nightmares with a needy kind of closeness, no matter what anyone else thought.

This isn't normal, she knows. They haven't seen each other since they were children, since before the period of her life that so cleanly divides it in two by sheer dint of psychological impact. It shouldn't be so easy to fit their new, jagged edges together again like this. And yet, she doesn't particularly care.

In a way, it feels a lot like making up for lost time. If they hadn't been separated, there could have been so many more nights like this by now; together, laughing and teasing with perfect familiarity. Maybe - certainly, there's not a shred of doubt in her mind - something more.

"Dinner's nearly done," Koschei announces, after the quiet has stretched into something that would be awkwardness with any other people. "I made Greek chicken."

"Sounds brilliant," Theta says. "Is there anything I can help with?"

He waves her off in the direction of his table. "I can get it all, don't worry. Just sit down and pull up those cat pictures you promised me."

Smiling, she does exactly that. By the time Koschei sits down across from her, bringing with him two plates of delicious food, she's got a whole gallery of Idris to show him. That occupies a few minutes, but eventually, they start talking about other things.

"So, what are you doing these days?" Theta asks.

Koschei shrugs. "Data entry, mostly. Boring stuff. I'd ask you what your job is, but…" He trails off with a pointed look.

Theta laughs. "That's a fairly new development. Still getting used to it. The man who had the job before me, John Irving, was murdered, so that was a lovely way to start."

She leaves out the part about how the murderer tried to do her the same favor, and the part where she killed him and can still feel the blood on her hands when she thinks about it too hard. Some things aren't meant to be discussed with friends, no matter how close they were. And right now, Koschei is a bastion of normality that she has no intent on corrupting.

"And you're just… okay with that?" he asks, wide-eyed with something that Theta can't quite name.

"Before that, I was reading evil books and testing out cursed artifacts for a living, so this was honestly a step up," she says flippantly.

Koschei chuckles at that, and the sound does wonderful things to Theta's heart.

"And before that?"

"Whatever I could find, mostly. It's a bit rough to get a good job when you don't have a permanent residence or life skills." Theta tries to keep her tone light, but there's always an undercurrent of bitterness that she can't quite kill when  _ that _ comes up.

A worried frown mars Koschei's face, and she elaborates.

"I didn't have the most pleasant experience with my… guardian. She wasn't interested in raising a kid, she just wanted a lab rat. I got out as soon as I could, but it wasn't exactly easy." Theta digs her fingernails into the fabric of her trousers as her leg bounces underneath the table. "She never hurt me, not really. Just didn't seem to care about what happened, one way or another."

Even just speaking about it is enough to tear open the memories shoved into the back of her mind. The sharp, clinical laboratory, the hypodermic needles and IV lines and that awful,  _ horrid _ bed that she ended up strapped to so many times that she lost count.

Theta swallows, takes a sip of water, and changes the subject. "What about you? Where'd you go after they kicked you out?"

"Oh, around," Koschei says, vaguely. "I got a degree, found a job, and… it's been a little boring, honestly."

"Sounds nice," Theta sighs. "I'd prefer boring."

He hums. After a moment, he clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. "So, all that supernatural stuff. You believe in it?"

She can't help but laugh. "I spent three weeks seeing fractal numbers instead of colors because I read one of those evil books."

"Ah." Koschei blinks. "Guess that answers that."

"Actually, speaking of, what were you coming to give a-" Theta pauses, patting her pockets. "My recorder! I left it in my office. Completely slipped my mind."

"It's okay," Koschei says. He smiles. "I could come by another day. Maybe we could have lunch. It's not- I mean, compared to that book, mine feels kind of silly."

"I'm sure it can't be worse than some of the ones we've seen before," she assures him.

He raises his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Piles and piles of ones that are clearly pranks, but we  _ have _ to file them." Theta shudders theatrically. "Lots of ghosts that are probably just carbon dioxide poisoning, too."

"Well, now I feel a little better," Koschei says.

She smiles, a comfortable warmth filling her chest. Being with Koschei like this is  _ nice, _ familiar in a way she's missed. There's a safety she associates with him, even after all these years; memories of friendship that she's rewound in her mind so many times that they almost feel faded at the edges, like old photographs. Softened by nostalgia and loneliness, but comforting all the same.

The conversation meanders from there - Theta is all too happy to let Koschei tell stories of teenaged trouble and university. She never had the time or money to go, but hearing it secondhand from him is surprisingly entertaining.

As he finishes a story about a disastrous job interview, Koschei stands and takes their empty plates. Theta follows him to the kitchen, rocking back and forth on her heels with her hands in her pockets.

"I should head back soon," she says. "Thanks for having me. And for making dinner."

He nods. "Of course."

Despite that, Theta stands there longer. She's torn between leaving, like she knows she should, and staying just for the sake of more time with him.

He's wonderfully normal, and right now she needs that. Something about him silences that awful urge in the back of her mind to  _ know _ no matter the risk, and lets her relax. She can't help but worry that just this will be enough to change that, somehow. That she'll draw him in and get him killed, the same way that John had with his own friends. And yet… she thinks it might be worth the risk.

Theta shakes her head minutely. She should really think this over before doing something impulsive. This -  _ Koschei _ \- is too important.

"Good night, Koschei," she says softly.

He steps close, and pulls her into a gentle, loose hug. Just like before, he's warm, and she has to squish the urge to melt into his touch because if she does, she won't be leaving tonight.

"Good night, Theta," he murmurs.


	2. Worm Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More fluff - this time, set after chapter 13 of Dread.

Theta is pretty sure they're going stir-crazy. They've never been good at sitting still for very long to begin with, and having the choice to move taken away only makes it worse. Pacing is a bad idea, they know, with the wounds in their legs still open enough to send pangs of agony up their spine at the slightest shift, but the urge to do so anyway is overwhelming.

Idris' presence, often settled firmly and immovably on their chest, helps somewhat. Not with the restlessness itself, but with the urge to mitigate it.

Their friends help, too. Koschei brings food every other day, Yaz and Ryan stopped by only a few days ago, and Graham spent four hours playing card games with them over the weekend.

Still, Theta's anxious to get back to work. Once their cane arrives and they're officially allowed to return, they'll be ready. The only reason they haven't already started reading statements is because their friends refuse to send any, and the thought of trying to get to the Institute without some kind of walking assistance is a miserable one.

So, in the interim, Theta is going stir-crazy. They're don't think they've ever spent this much time playing their viola since they first got interested, but it gives them  _ something _ productive to do with their hands and doesn't require standing up, so it's a far sight better than some of their other choices.

They're in the middle of improvising something low and dark, simply messing around to see what sounds good, when a knock comes at the door. Three knocks, sharp and concise - a pattern they've grown used to.

"Come on in!" they call, setting the viola aside.

There's a pause, a faint jangling of keys, and then the creak of their front door as Koschei steps inside. They'd exchanged keys after the first week of being reunited, and it's come in handy quite a few times since the worm incident. Not having to stand up to let him in is, in Theta's opinion, a huge part of why she's had Koschei over as often as she has in the past week and a half. Alongside a few other reasons.

In his hands, he has a clear plastic bowl full of what looks to be salad. His eyes glance over the scene - Theta sitting in one of the chairs at their small table that doubles as a desk most days, their viola on top of a few scribbled sheets of notes, the case on the floor.

"What were you playing?" Koschei asks, as he places the bowel on the kitchen counter.

Theta shrugs. "Just messing around. How was your day?"

"Dull. Yours?"

"The same. I think I'm about two days of boredom from guilt-tripping Yaz into sending me a statement, just so I can feel like I'm doing something useful."

He laughs and sits down across from them. "What's wrong with enjoying the time off?"

Theta purses their lips. They haven't told him about what they learned from Nardole yet. They don't know if they will. If they succeed, then Koschei will never have to know, and if they fail… If they fail, it won't matter either way. But it feels wrong, keeping secrets from him like this.

"I'm just  _ bored," _ they sigh. "I can't walk around, I can barely get from my bed to here without my legs giving out, and everything I can think of to do is either unappealing or too physical for me right now."

"Recovery takes time, love," Koschei points out. Their heart does…  _ something _ at the pet name. "You're already healing faster than was expected. There isn't much you can do to speed it along except for resting."

Theta plucks idly at a single string of the viola with one finger. "I know, I know. Least I've got you to keep me company."

"I do my best."

The two of them lapse into silence for a moment. Theta continues to pick at the viola, twanging strings at random in a vaguely harmonic pattern. They know they need to talk about things with Koschei, but there's a difference between that and  _ doing _ it.

"We need to talk," they say. "And I'm sorry for not bringing it up sooner, I know I should have, but-"

Koschei jolts slightly in his seat. "Theta, if this is about-"

"I killed someone."

"What?"

They blink at each other.

"Okay, you go first, 'cause I'm a bit confused about what  _ you _ thought I meant," Theta says, after a brief and immensely awkward pause.

"I… thought we were talking about our  _ feelings, _ not  _ murder!" _ Koschei exclaims. "Stars, Theta, do you have an alibi? Is there- who did you kill?"

"No, it's- he was a serial killer, and it was self defense, and his body's in the tunnels under the Institute. I just thought you deserved to know, since you're helping so much and I feel bad keeping secrets from you." They take a breath in, hold it for a second, and let it out. "Now, what did  _ you _ mean?"

"I-" Koschei runs a hand through his hair. "Okay, no, you need to elaborate. What do you mean, he was a serial killer? Why were you in the same room as a serial killer in the first place?"

"I didn't have much of a choice," Theta mutters. "Seeing as he kidnapped me. There's a few strings of hiking-related disappearances over the past few decades that were his fault, and I'm sure there's more that I wasn't able to confirm were him. Short version is, the last Archivist was  _ involved _ with him and got murdered by him, and he decided he wanted to kill me, too. I just… I got lucky. Yaz came looking for me, he got distracted, I managed to stab him with a broken bit of mirror, and it was enough to kill him. I stabbed him in the eye, and I guess it hit something important because he just  _ collapsed." _

Koschei's staring at them. His eyes are wide and unreadable and it's making Theta very,  _ very _ nervous. The realization that they just openly confessed to murder hits with a shot of dread, which is quickly suppressed by an equally strong confidence that Koschei  _ wouldn't. _ But over all of that, there's a nagging little thread of uncertainty. He  _ could, _ and there'd be nothing they could do. And maybe they'd deserve it, too.

Finally, Koschei opens his mouth. Theta braces for something bad. "Is he the one who messed up your shoulders?"

_ That, _ they weren't expecting. They flounder for a moment before managing, "Yeah. He wasn't exactly all human."

They don't say that they aren't sure if  _ they're _ entirely human, either. They're not quite ready to address that, yet, much less after such a terrifying admission.

"Right," Koschei says. "Okay."

Silence falls again.

"Is that all you're going to ask?" Theta wonders.

Koschei nods. "I mean, I don't think you're going to murder  _ me, _ or anyone else, so… unless I'm wrong about that, I don't have any more questions. I'm glad you told me, love."

This is  _ not _ the proper response to being informed that someone committed murder, Theta knows. They also know that it should be worrying that Koschei's responding like that, and it definitely shouldn't be producing the kind of warm, fuzzy feeling that's currently in her chest.

"Alright then," they say, for lack of anything better. They pluck at a string on the viola again, and it makes a low note. "What were you talking about?"

He takes a moment to reply, that same unreadable look in his eye. "I thought you were going to say- actually, no, never mind."

"Kos, I just admitted that I killed someone," Theta points out. "Whatever it is, out with it."

"When we were kids," Koschei says softly, "there was something there, between us. I wasn't imagining it, was I?"

_ Oh. _ So that's what he meant by 'feelings'.

"No, you weren't," they reply.

"And if you hadn't- if you'd stayed, it would've been more. I know the timing's probably awful, and if I'm wrong and you've moved on, you can just tell me." He reaches out, taking their hand that was resting on the viola, running his thumb over their knuckles. "I have feelings for you, Theta."

They try, for what feels like a small eternity, to make their mouth form a reply. Unfortunately, their brain is still recovering from the overpowering wave of  _ relief _ and  _ joy _ that hit, and it takes a while for them to remember that Koschei is waiting for some kind of response. But he isn't saying that it's a joke, and he isn't leaving, and that's a good sign.

"I… do too," Theta says. "Lots of feelings. Mostly good ones - all of them are good, really. They're  _ brilliant _ feelings, because you're brilliant." And then comes the even more difficult part. "But I don't know if this is a good idea. I almost got you eaten by worms after a month of being friends again. I don't want to hurt you more."

"Theta. Love." Koschei's hold on their hand is firm and warm. "I can handle myself. And I don't want you doing this alone, either. If you're staying where you are, then I'll buy more fire extinguishers in case of worms."

"I don't have much of a choice," they sigh. "I  _ can't _ quit. I think the end of the world might be happening some time soon, and I'm the only one who can stop it."

He smiles, crooked and sweet. "Then I'll stock up for the apocalypse while I'm at it."

His hand slips out of theirs as he stands, walking the short distance around the table to stand in front of them. Gently, Koschei bends down and cradles their face. The kiss that follows is absolutely  _ perfect, _ and Theta melts into it happily.


End file.
